


Awkward Third Encounters

by mistyhollowdrummer



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: But more stripper AU, Dirty Talk, F/M, Lots of Sex, May or may not have researched strippers to write this, Romelle and Allura are the best wingmen, Rough Sex, Sexy Times, Stripper AU, Swearing, The one no one would write for me, also college au, so i took matters into my own hands, strippers everywhere
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-19
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:28:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22807867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistyhollowdrummer/pseuds/mistyhollowdrummer
Summary: As per tradition in her weird little group of friends, Pidge is (forcibly) taken out to a strip club for her twenty-first birthday. She figures it’s just a trip, she’ll drink, they’ll see some hot men, and they’ll call it a night, but Allura and Romelle are adamant about making this night memorable.It’s not so horrible. The man they get for her lap dance isn’t unattractive. He’s not overly buff, but has that perfect definition to his muscles to make her just the tinniest bit weak in the knees. He’s tan and handsome, with brown hair and blues eyes and-Wait.“Lance…?”
Relationships: Lance/Pidge | Katie Holt
Comments: 8
Kudos: 76





	Awkward Third Encounters

**Author's Note:**

> I'M NOT DEAD  
> THY BE WITCHCRAFT  
> This was originally written for a bang, but due to some personal issues, I dropped from the bang. This fanfic has been done for almost a year now and I decided it was time to release the demons- I mean post the fanfic. No one was writing stripper AU's for these two, so! Had to take matters into my own hands.  
> *Rolls up sleeves* Let's do this, bitches.

Lights were blaring. The open room was filled with the heavy scent of sweat, alcohol, and cigarette smoke. The floors are dark and the walls are pink, poles lined every few meters, and cushioned booths with tables decorated in disgustingly normal décor for a place like this.

This was so not her type of environment.

Pidge looked around at the woman sitting and booths and tables, lining the stage as a man dancing provocatively in nothing by a sock. A _sock._ How it stayed on there she couldn’t even fathom, and she found herself flushing and dipping her head down to look at the floor, at her sneaker clad feet and two other pairs of feet beside her, both in heels.

“Now this is a dive I can get with,” Romelle said, hands on her hips and bare shoulders rolling.

“It’s definitely better than where you took me last year,” Allura said, smiling so casually, and she was far too calm for this type of situation.

“Definitely. Plus I was here last week to make sure it was suited to our dear virgin here,” Romelle motioned to Pidge with her shoulder, and for a moment Pidge considered murder. Wasn’t the first time in her life, but it was definitely the first time she felt an itch in her hand to reach for the nearest blunt instrument and bash it into someone’s head. “And the men are way hotter. That one guy up there?”

She motioned up the stage at the man with the sock on, a shit eating grin taking over her cheeks.

“That’s a _large_ sock.”

“Oh my,” Allura flushed and rubbed her hands together at her side.

“Okay, I’m old enough to say I’m too sober for this.” Pidge said, crossing her arms over her chest. “Can we go get drinks now?”

Not that she hadn’t had alcohol before, but the first time was by accident. Someone spiked her drink at a party, and the next morning she woke up with a pounding headache, and a video sent to her from Allura showing her slurred dancing on a table, men hooting and hollering for her to take _something_ off.

She was assured she went home safely and put right to bed.

“Absolutely!” Allura beamed, clapping her hands together. “Drinks sound wonderful. Let’s get a booth.”

They manage a table towards the far back, by demand of Pidge. A waiter comes by in only jeans cut low on his hips, showing a perfectly carved V going straight down to where the eyes couldn’t see, but the attention was drawn there regardless. Pidge practically squeaked and turned her head while Allura ordered her drink, Romelle ordered hers, and then promptly ordered one for Pidge before she could even say anything.

“Get her the Sex on the Beach, please. She needs to relax.” The blonde said casually, like they were at some regular bar or even a family restaurant. It was almost disturbing to see how normal this seemed for the two older woman.

“Coming right up,” The attractive man (And Pidge couldn’t deny that he was indeed a fine looking man), said and walked away.

“Loosen up, Pidge,” Romelle told her, clapping her on the back. “We’re here to have fun and hoot and holler at some hot dudes.”

“Not to mention relax from exams.” Allura added on, which was a pretty decent point.

With final exams coming up, they all needed a breather, but this was not Pidge’s idea of a good day off from studying. Her idea of a nice day off was sitting by her open window, listening to the birds of spring chirp, kids running and playing while she read a good book. Maybe had some nice, calming music playing in the background to keep her focused.

If she had to go out, she figured they would go shopping. Spend what little money they had left on clothes that never fit her for her small stature, or in her case, new components for her computer. She needed some new ram slots anyway.

Not _this._ Not the waiter coming back with their drinks in record time, precariously leaning over the table with flexed muscles to make sure she got her drink, and Allura and Romelle just had to gawk at him.

She needed the alcohol.

“First time…?” The man asked, and the two woman nodded their heads.

“Don’t worry. We’ve got her covered for the night.” Romelle assured, and Pidge looked up from her orange drink to frown at her.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She questioned with a scowl.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Katie,” Allura said, her real name a soft tone that was soothing to hear. Allura always knew how to use her voice to help people in their time of need. “We aren’t going to do anything to hurt you. We just want you to have some fun for your birthday, so please relax and enjoy yourself. I’d hate to think we’ve ruined your birthday.”

Okay, that was a narcissistic tactic and she knew it, but Pidge couldn’t help by play right into her hands

“You haven’t ruined anything. I’m just… Not used to this scene.”

“We understand,” Allura rubbed her shoulder gently. “But don’t worry. No one here will actually do anything to make you uncomfortable.”

“That we know of.” Romelle muttered, and Pidge glared daggers at her.

“You keep saying that! What’s that supposed to-?”

“Ladies and ladies!” A voice calls over the speaker in the room. There are speakers built into the booth as well just to make sure everyone hears the cool and deep male voice over the chatter in the room.

Suddenly woman are up, drinks either ignored or brought with them as they all gather around the stage. Pidge could only guess a performance is about to happen, but she was quite comfortable here watching from the sidelines, taking her first (intentional) sip of her drink.

She looked at it with a small sigh. It wasn’t half bad actually. Not what she imagined alcohol to taste like anyway. Peachy, maybe some grapefruit? Probably a lot to cover up the taste.

“Are you ready for a good time?” The announcer asked, and the woman went wild.

Pidge didn’t even notice another body walk up to the booth. A body clad in a suit and tux, something older looking, with a top hat to oddly complete the look. When she looked up, she was no less than surprised, but ultimately confused. He looked so out of place here in this room, but it wasn’t until Romelle stood up that she realized why.

_Oh._

He was the performance.

“My lady,” The man said, top hat so low that she couldn’t see his face, but the voice was honey smooth, yet oddly familiar.

It took her a second too long to realize he was holding his hand out for her. Allura nudged her along, and when it clicked into place what was happening, she quickly sank back into her seat.

“O-Oh no! No, no! I’m good!” She exclaimed, leaning back into Allura’s side, but the woman adamantly pushed her.

“Remember what I said,” She whispered, forcing her out of the booth.

The man wasn’t deterred by her behavior in the least. It was almost like he’d seen it before, and as such, his hand didn’t leave the air. All Pidge can see is a striking smirk under the rim of his top hat, teeth barely showing, and his whole being just oozed confidence.

Cocky bastard.

“Go on!” Romelle ushered, forcing her along until Pidge had no choice but to take up his hand. The skin of his fingers and palm were smooth to the touch, nails perfectly done without a scratch anywhere. His hand looked like a haven compared to her rough hand and bitten down nails.

“Looks like we’ve got a good show for you tonight!” The announcer spoke up, and the man who stood at her side tugged gently on her hand, leading her towards the stage.

Oh god. Oh no.

“Uh-!” She began, but the gentle tug on her hand had her mouth going dry, and any words she had were caught in her throat.

_Speak! Use that big brain of yours and use your words!_

Nothing was coming out. Not as they walked through the crowd. Not as they walked up on stage. Not as he set another hand on her waist, and not as the music began to play.

It wasn’t what she expected. The music, nor the dancing. He had her in a gentle embrace against his chest, his hands soft as he took slow, even steps to the front, then the left, to the back, and then right. It was the type of slow dance she remembered being on those dancing shows, but far slower, and far tamer. Not at all like the stuff she knew went on in strip clubs.

This wasn’t what she expected at all. The lights were blaring and the music was an old timey piano piece she hadn’t heard in forever, but looking up, the smirk was still on the cocky guys face.

This was just the beginning. It had to be.

It wasn’t all too bad. At least not yet. The man they got for her wasn’t unattractive. He was tall, dark, and handsome. She could admit it. He had high cheek bones, a prominent nose, and that lady killer smile with the barest hint of white teeth showing through. His blue eyes were a striking color, a contrast to his dark skin, and-

Wait.

Wait, wait.

“Lance…?” She asked, her eyes widening as the realization of who she saw in front of her hit her like a ton of bricks, and when his eyes widened too, she knew he felt the same.

Oh shit. This was Lance. Lance McClain. The guy her teacher asked to tutor for their microbiology class. The guy she’d only met on two instances. Once for their first official meeting, and one other time for their first tutoring session. He was the guy who she had only seen walk around campus before, maybe seen falling asleep in their class together, or drinking a coffee while reading in the library, but she’d never gone up to talk to him. Why would she?

He was the guy that played football and got to their college on a scholarship. He was the jock, the quarterback, the stereotypical guy she knew would never talk to her, the stereotypical nerd.

Yet here she was. Staring up at his face darkened by the hat that was wide eyed and panicked. Their strides had come to a complete halt in front of everyone, and Lance’s lips parted, moved like he was trying to say something, and then stopped. It happened two more times before he finally got something out.

“Katie…?” He asked, and her real name was almost foreign to her coming from him.

“Y-You-!” She almost yipped in surprise, but Lance quickly turned her back to the crowd, ducking low to avoid his face being seen.

“Shh,” He hushed, a look of guilt in his eyes. “Don’t say anything, and don’t get me fired.” He pleaded, looking no less than crestfallen.

Pidge had a lot to say. Plenty to say, actually, with all of the questions and comments she had before rushing to the forefront of her mind, ready to come out of her mouth in a cacophony of gestures and noises she wasn’t sure were normal, but the music suddenly changed.

That old piano piece faded, and out came a bass boom so loud she felt it vibrate the stage under her feet. A clap of the snare, the sound of synthesized sound that was deafeningly loud to her ears. Pidge nearly clapped her hands over her ears before Lance stepped far closer into her personal space.

“L-Lance-” She tried again, but stopped short when he bent down ever so close to her hips. He rolled his shoulders back, took an audibly deep breath in, and crept up her body, his nose grazing every little thing that came in its path.

Every word she had to say died on the tip of her tongue as he stood tall over her, a groan leaving him on a heavy breath out. His shoulders rolled again, this time back and up, accentuating a strong, sturdy posture that did well to make her knees shake.

The audience cheered in a horrible way. The way that she deemed desperate, but somewhere in the back, she heard her friends cheering for her to have fun. The reminders were there, but she was frozen into place.

Lance walked to the side of her, his chest pressing against her arm, and to the beat of the heavy bass, he popped it against her. The power behind it had her leaning to one side.

Lance walked behind her, and again to the music he popped his chest into her back. She struggled to stay upright, but the force he brought with each hit of his chest had her stagger just a little bit forward.

He walked to her other side and did it again. This time hard enough for her to stagger to the side, catching her footing just in time before she face planted into the floor. A hand caught her, however, with another flying to her waist just before she was pulled against his chest, nose pressing into the lapel of his suit top.

“Looks like we have a live one today, ladies!” The announcer called over the speakers. Woman in the audience went wild, and all she could think about was the musky smell coming from Lance. Something zesty like ocean water, but musty like sweat.

Why did that make her stomach flip in on itself?

Pidge felt herself be walked towards center stage, numb to everything around her, even the chair she was pushed into, albeit roughly. It was enough to have it scoot back, and for the audience to scream in excitement.

Pidge gasped lightly, the sound covered up by the music. Lance walked behind her, hands teasingly crawling up her bare arms, to her shoulders, and then down, down, down, and-

Oh _holy shit._

She definitely yipped that time when his hands brazenly grazed her breasts, fingers teasingly flicking where her nipples were before his hands went back up. His hands gripped gently around her arms, pulling them up and over her head, up high to wrap around his neck, feeling the hairs on the back up it stand on end.

The soft trail of Lance’s fingers down her bare arms had goosebumps rising on her skin, suddenly much warmer than she had been five minutes ago. She knew she was flushed from head to toe, and good god, everyone could _see_ it. There was no hiding from them.

Lance’s hands began moving down again. Down her chest where they wandered over her breasts and then down lower.

Much lower.

Pidge squeaked when his hands passed over her crotch, pushing at her legs until they were pushed out and open to the world. Multiple thoughts went through her mind at that moment, but the biggest one was that she was glad she hadn’t worn a skirt like she had originally intended to.

His hands were more assertive down at her legs, trailing along her inner thighs, up again to the zipper of her jeans, and then back down. She tried to close her legs, but Lance kept pushing them out, keeping them in place in this vulnerable position that left her shaking.

Finally satisfied with his work it seemed, Lance brought his hands up to take her own away from his neck. He walked around her, facing her and only her to take her hands up and to his chest, to the buttons of his suit jacket. Pidge hesitated greatly, but she looked up, and for the first time since they met, she got a really good look at his eyes.

Those big, blue eyes of his, like pools of water, gazing down at her with guilt, but with passion behind it. With a desire and a silent plea to keep this all a secret, because if she acted out, he could get in trouble.

What was the desire in his eyes though? What was she reading that she couldn’t place?

She didn’t realize she had done it until it was too late, but her fingers pulled on the loose buttons of his jacket, plucking each one free until the jacket was open.

Lance turned away then, facing the audience to slowly remove his jacket. The woman screamed in tandem with his movement as he revealed his chest to the crowd. It was an uproar, but Pidge found her eyes trained on Lance’s back. The muscles rippling under his skin and the definition in his upper arms were hypnotizing to say the least, especially when his hips started to shift and grind with the beat of the music.

He turned back to her, facing her side to slowly grind in her face. Pidge was too stunned to move, looking at his carved abs and the prominent V in his hips leading to places she was afraid she was about to see.

Lance moved slowly around her, hips still grinding, hat tipped low to hide his eyes, but she caught glimpses of them anyway.

She wasn’t sure what she was thinking. If she were one of the girls in the audience, she’d be checking him out nonstop. To her, she’d be repulsed and trying her hardest to get off this stage, and yet she kept seeking out his eyes. Only his eyes, because every time she saw them, she saw something lusty in them, and it made her shiver with something she didn’t understand.

The brunet walked behind her, wrapped his arms around her chest, this time lifting her from her chair in a less than gentlemen manner than he had when he first took her out of her seat. Pidge gasped as he tugged her along to the pole on stage, pressing her back up against it and pinning her hands to the pole above her head.

Pidge inhaled deeply when he ground into her, his hips just barely brushing up against her. Her hands didn’t fall to stop him, instead clinging to the pole like her life depended on it as she whimpered in her throat.

She wanted something. She wasn’t sure what it was, but there was an odd coil in her stomach, and not just from the nervousness or the embarrassment of what was happening. No, this was from something else.

Lance’s hands trailed all over her body, starting from her legs, past her crotch to her hips where he gripped rather roughly. He pressed their hips together, and she could feel _it_ press against her.

Was he…?

She didn’t have time to dwell on it, because Lance’s hands ran up her sides, over her chest, and all the way up to her hands where he gripped at her wrists. Pidge whimpered, this time a little louder, as he ground into her, like he was dry humping her with all of his might. The audience was cheering on, a few chants for him to take off what else he had left on him, which, if she were being honest with herself (and she never would, because no, this wasn’t turning her on. It couldn’t be), she wanted to see that too.

Lance stood back finally, looking like he was out of breath. He looked her up and down, something feral in his eyes. Something that made something in her clench tightly, swallowing back a lump in her throat.

Lance’s fingers went to his neck, trailing down his chest like he was glorifying his body. It had the intended effect, because her eyes followed the movement of his hand all over his chest, over a hardened nipple, and down to that V in his hips. He pressed up against her as he messed with his belt, as if pretending he didn’t know how to remove it. It was just for show, she told herself, but there was something actually clumsy in his movements.

He pulled the belt loose, teasingly slipping it from each belt look that it was in. When it fell to his side, he whipped it in the air. The snap made her jump, but the heat in her stomach roiling had her anticipating more.

What was going on here?

Lance wrapped the belt around her wrists, tightening it until she actually couldn’t move her hands. Not that she wanted to. Faintly she heard the audience cheer, and somewhere in the background the announcer made a claim that things were getting hot and heavy tonight, but she didn’t care.

She wanted to see where this would go. She wanted to see what he’d do next.

Lance plucked the button of his pants, then pulled the zipper down. When her eyes caught sight, he pulled it back up, then down again. He was teasing her, mindlessly torturing her, and it was working.

After a few short seconds of doing this, he finally let it slide down. Down to show the black underwear just beneath. Pidge gulped a heavy breath of air, her heartbeat drowning out the audience’s cheers for him to take it off as her eyes trained on exactly where they were intended to go. She watched the way his pants hung loose on his hips as they swayed back and forth, grinding up towards her and then rolling back.

His name stayed trapped on her tongue, taking in how he tucked his thumbs in the waist band of his pants and pulled down slowly, teasingly, revealing smooth and pale skin of his hips, his upper thighs, then lower.

The audience was losing their minds, but all Pidge could hear was the blood rushing through her ears, knowing full well how red her face was and not giving a fuck out it.

She wanted to see more.

She got a great glimpse of his ass as he turned away, purposefully bending down to show off the smooth skin of his lower quads and between his legs where she could see the outline of his dick. It made something in her clench tight, her legs pressing together like she was trying to hide something.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew this was going too far. They had to stop this, yet the reason was lost to her. Why did they need to stop? Did it matter? They just had to, but the words died on her tongue when he turned back to her, a shit eating grin on his lips that she wanted to smack off of his face and yet have trail down her whole body.

Lance reached up and undid the belt around her wrists. It hasn’t been tight; in fact, she could have just slipped free, but her arms were numb from being up for so long, uselessly flopping at her sides. Lance took them up and wrapped them around her shoulders as he pressed in close, letting them sit loosely there while his hands trailed down her sides.

Pidge gasped as they dipped between her thighs, pushing her legs apart. This had to be stopped, but one thrust up and she lost all thought process.

The audience cried out in excitement as he began thrusting up, rolling his hips up like he was simulating fucking her senseless. Slow and precise, calculated and poised to screw her brains out for real if they were doing this for real, alone in her apartment and in her bed where she could be tied to the headboard-

Pidge whimpered in her throat when she felt the barest brush of his dick against her. It pressed into a place it shouldn’t have, and all at once did heat spread like wildfire in her body, pooling at that place she couldn’t even fathom would have a reaction to this, but did.

He did it again, and this time it didn’t feel like a mistake. It was firmer, with the unmistakable groan that fell from his parted lips, and the sound and pressure did something to her. Something good. Something that made her pant.

She only noticed it too little too late, heat rushing to her face in embarrassment when she realized what she was doing, but she quickly noticed Lance was doing it too. With their bodies turned just slightly from the audience, each brush against her clit brought out a small sound, a hum of something from him.

This wasn’t right. It couldn’t be. Was he allowed to touch her like this?

Like she cared at this point. She just didn’t want him to stop.

“ _Lance_ …” She whimpered quietly, eyes silently pleading.

“Fuck…” His voice was just as quiet against the booming bass and rowdy crowd.

“H-Harder…” She pleaded with him, fists tugging on the hair on the back of his neck.

Lance ground his teeth together, giving a sharp, hard thrust into her hips for one good brush of their sexes together, and Pidge was on cloud nine, but only for a moment. Lance stopped just as quickly and turned her back to the chair, forcing her hands down on the back of it, facing front to the audience.

They were cheering. Screaming. Hooting and hollering. She was aware of their presence, but there was a part of her that didn’t care. A part of her that said fuck it and didn’t care if Lance indulged himself in fucking her right into the floor. Their chanting and praise only made her want it more, tears burning in her eyes and cheeks red with desire.

She didn’t know what caused it, but the audience cheered even louder than before. Pidge felt Lance’s hand run down her sides, down to her ass to cup it while he shuffled behind her. A second later she saw a flash of the black underwear he’d been wearing thrown into the audience, and it hit her like a ton of bricks.

He was _naked._ He was naked standing behind her, using her body to block the view from the crowd so they wouldn’t see what she felt pressed into her behind.

It was _hard._

Pidge gasped when he thrust his hips into her backside, rubbing up and down and gently coaxing her legs apart farther. Pidge willingly let it happen, her eyes closing to avoid the eyes on her, mouth parted to pant, and legs shaking. She felt like they would go out at any moment, but Lance had a first grip on her hips, the pads of his fingers digging into the skin where her shirt road up.

Oh god, if he just reached under, he could grab at her breasts and massage them. He could reach down and rub at her clit from above the zipper of her jeans, or maybe he'd undo them and go at it the way she wanted him to. Maybe he'd slip his fingers in, rub against that perfect spot, and then-

Pidge gasped again, her head dropping and eyes watering.

It felt _so good._ Just a little more.

If Lance knew how wet she was, what would he think? Would he be appalled? Would he be mad? Or better yet, would he enjoy it?

Did he get a sick, twisted joy out of knowing she was wet? Did he like they idea that he made her like this, and that was why he was hard? It had to be. It just had to be. That was why he was hard. He liked it, and the idea that he liked it made her clench all the more, roll back into his hips, feel his erection rub up and down, and then-

And then it just stopped.

“Shit…” Lance uttered from behind her, his breathing uneven and shaky.

Pidge whined at the lack of stimulation, sweet nirvana just a hairs’ breath away. Hands gripped at her arms and pulled them back, forcing her up. She was vaguely aware of how she must have looked: A little sweaty, legs pressed together and shaking, knees bent, and hands reaching back to grab at Lance's ass. He was close enough to, but she didn't get the chance.

Lance took off his hat, and before revealing himself to the audience, he covered himself with it. The one hand on Pidge's arm was the only thing holding her up at this point as he stepped to the side, and the announcer let's everyone know, herself included, that he finished up.

When she looked to him, Pidge saw a wonky smile, but his eyes read something totally different. He looked guilty, and when his blue eyes flashed to hers, the look intensified. The smile even slipped a little, and when it did, Pidge was reminded of where they were, and what they had been doing.

Lance kept his hat in place, never letting it slip as he walked her to the stairs of the stage. Allura and Romelle were there, and when he let go, Pidge staggered on the stairs, her friends there to catch her.

"Whoa, what a show!" Romelle exclaimed, clapping her hands together.

"It was indeed," Allura agreed, wrapping her arms around Pidge to keep her up as they walked her back to her seat.

"I-It was fine," Pidge uttered, only now realizing how dry her throat was. Her first words since getting on stage sounded raspy and broken.

“You looked like you enjoyed yourself." Romelle said with a wink, taking her seat back at their booth where three drinks waited for them.

Pidge wanted to argue, but anything resembling words were gone from her mind, left numb and dazed. Her brain couldn't come up with the words to argue with her, instead going back over and over again to Lance's hands on her, fingers tight on her body, hips grinding, curling, biceps hard under her hands, hair fine and soft, and his sweat filling her senses. Those blue eyes of his on her and only her, like she was the only thing in the room, which was hard to imagine with the crowd as loud as it was.

No, it was more than fine. It was perfect, all except for the ending.

She'd been _so close._

* * *

The pleasurable tingle still lingered on her skin from wherever he touched.

It had been a week since the spontaneous birthday party Romelle and Allura had thrown for her, and the effects of that dance still plagued her thoughts on a day to day basis.

The dance, the touch, and the breath on her neck. The lingering smell of cologne that stuck to her skin and clothes when she got home, and even after a cold shower to cool herself off.

It was all there. She couldn’t get rid of it. She tried, but any disturbing thought that she could come up with, from thinking about her parents or her brother to thinking about a kicked puppy, Lance’s face was always still there. Those blue eyes haunted her like a ghost. They were the first thing she thought of in the morning, and the last thing she saw behind closed eyelids when she went to bed.

This was all Romelle and Allura’s fault. Of course it was. She wouldn’t be like this if it wasn’t for them. She wouldn’t even know of Lance’s personal _“job”_ if it weren’t for them. She was just fine thinking of him as the jock from her class who the teacher asked to tutor. She was fine with the idea that she’d see him once a week, because that was enough. Any more time spent with him and she was sure to kill him, but since her party, that thought had changed.

She still wanted to blow his head off, but the reason was different now. She was irritated. Irate. Angry that he was constantly at the forefront of her mind. She could just imagine his head popping with how annoyed she was that his image came about at random times of the day, but she also imagined his hands all over her.

Her hands pinned above her head, legs separated to allow a warm body between them. Soft fingers running deftly over the skin of her hip where her shirt rucked up. A nose pressed into her neck, heavy breathing in her ear. Hips grinding into her some, but not enough. Not enough to quell that ache she so desperately craved.

There it was again. That burning in the pit of her stomach. She hated it, and would give anything to slap Lance’s big dumb face, but she couldn’t. At this point, she didn’t think she could even be in the same lecture hall as him without going red in the face and running out of the room.

Pidge groaned into her pillow, rolling over with it pressed firmly to her face. Little specs of dark shadows from the rain outside danced on her ceiling, but it wasn’t enough of a distraction. It just wasn’t enough anymore.

The idea had come to her a few times this past week. A few ways to alleviate the sexual stress she felt, but she refused. She knew Lance would just _be there,_ giving her that cocky smirk with those pretty blue eyes of his, and she’d hate it completely, because not only did it know her personal secrets, but it had control over her.

She hated that.

Pidge sat up from the couch, prepared to take her seventh cold shower this week when a knock at her door sounded. She couldn’t thank the universe enough for the distraction, no matter how minimal. It could be her crazy neighbor coming to complain about the noise again, or just the mail earlier than usual and she wouldn’t care. Anything was better than nothing.

Until she opened the door.

“Lance…?”

She gaped at the man standing in front of her, dressed in a button down blue shirt and denim jeans, his hair combed back from his face, though some pieces still sat on his forehead. He almost looked just as stunned to see her, like he wasn’t expecting it to be her who opened the door, but just as fast as his reaction to her happened did a goofy smile pull at the corners of his lips, a hand of his coming up to rub the back of his neck.

“Hey, Pidge,” He greeted awkwardly, his eyes falling to the ground. Pidge felt heat rise to her cheeks.

“Lance, what uh… What are you doing here?” She asked, taking notice of the book bag he carried with him.

“You said come by Tuesday for tutoring. Well, it’s Tuesday.” He explained, shrugging his shoulders. Pidge bit her bottom lip, cursing her luck and her brain for completely forgetting about their arrangement. “… You’re still going to help me, aren’t you?” Lance’s face fell completely.

“Yeah, yeah,” Pidge said, opening up the door farther and motioning towards her living room. “Come on in.”

He barely managed a smile as he walked into her apartment, looking around the room with those bright eyes of his and taking in the surroundings. Their first tutoring session had been outside of the lecture hall in the courtyard, so this was his first time in her apartment. To be honest, other than friends, this was the first time Pidge had, had _any_ guy in her apartment. Hunk and Keith had been over, both alone and with other friends, but they were friends. It was different.

“You have a nice place, Pidge.” Lance said, shucking off his book bag. “Way cleaner than mine.”

“Don’t call me Pidge,” She berated, her arms crossing over her chest.

“Why?” He asked, setting his bag beside the coffee table. “Everyone calls you Pidge.”

“No, family and close friends do. Anyone else who calls me that is making fun of me.” She corrected him, walking towards her kitchen.

“Oh…”

Pidge acted like she couldn’t hear the hurt in his voice.

“You want anything to drink?” She asked in lieu of his response.

“Uh, water would be nice.” He said, and Pidge took in how awkwardly he stood, his hand cupping his arm.

“Okay. You can set your stuff up on the table.” She told him, grabbing cups from her cupboard to get them both a drink.

“You uh, live here by yourself?” Lance asked as he did as he was told, pulling out books from his backpack. Pidge came back with their drinks, setting them down on the table beside him.

“Yeah.”

“How do you afford staying here by yourself?”

“My parents help me so I can focus on my school work.” She responded, taking a slow seat beside him. She hoped he didn’t notice how slow moving she was.

“Man, you’re lucky. I have a roommate who is up half of the night talking with his girlfriend out of town.”

Pidge smiled lightly, rolling her shoulders to shrug off the tension she felt. She could do this. It’d only be an hour or so, and they didn’t really need to chat like this. They only had to focus on the prep test of their course. She had it down, so all she had to do was make sure he had it down too.

* * *

“Lance, it’s easy.” Pidge said, her finger tapping against the flashcard. “Which three of these are a gram-negative bug?”

“Hell if I know,” He scoffed, placing his head in his hand.

“We just went over this.” She uttered, trying hard not to come across as frustrated as she was. Maybe or maybe not for more than one reason. “Virbio Cholerae, Escherichia Coli, and…?”

“It’s that one that sounds like a drug.”

“Bordetella Pertussis doesn’t sound like a drug.”

“A prescription drug.” Pidge huffed, setting the card down beside her to pick up another one. “No, no more. Let’s just take a break, okay? We’ve been at this for an hour now.”

“… Alright, but only ten minutes.” She relented, and Lance let out a sigh of relief.

“Thank god,” He griped before dropping his head down on the table.

“You’ll get it. You just need to put aside thirty minutes a day to go over the flashcards I made for you.” She assured him, reaching for her cellphone. Ten minutes was a lot of time to try and do something that didn’t involve talking to him. She could find something to do that-

“So uhm… What year are you in?”

God damn it.

“I’m a junior.”

“Really…?” Lance lifted his head. “I wouldn’t have even placed you as a freshman.”

“I get that a lot.” She said, looking down at the floor. His full attention was on her, and she hated it. At least in the courtyard Lance would gawked at pretty girls who walked by or call out to one of his friends. Here she was trapped under his gaze, every fiber of his attention on her and only her, and it made the temperature of the room feel about twenty degrees hotter. “It’s cause I’m short.”

“You have a young face too.” He stated, and Pidge rolled her eyes. “N-Not in a bad way. You look young for your age.”

“Are you calling me old?” She frowned at his words, but she still couldn’t look at him.

“If you’re old, I must be ancient. I’m only two years older than you.”

How he knew that she wasn’t sure, but the frustration let up just enough to show her surprise. It must have been enough for Lance to take notice too, because he frowned at her, his eyes narrowing in on her like she’d done something wrong.

“… You can’t even look me in the face.” He said, sitting up straight.

“What are you talking about?” She finally looked at him, and damn if his annoyance didn’t come across as sexy.

“You’ve barely looked at me all evening. Like, since I came through the door you’ve spent more time looking at the floor like something is about to pop out of the wood.”

Funny euphemism. At least it would be if she wasn’t so horribly mortified that she’d been found out.

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” She said, quickly picking up the flashcards to distract herself. Maybe she could distract him too. “So, back to-”

“No, I’m not done yet.” He said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Look, what happened was embarrassing for me too.”

“You mean you weren’t living it up with all the girls drooling over you?” She didn’t bother to hide her irritation. She’d been found out, so what was the worry now?

“Right, because dry humping my tutor is something I dream about.” He scoffed, and Pidge blushed like mad. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? If I had any idea you were the person I was supposed to give a lap dance to, I never would have done it.”

“Ugh, don’t say that.” Pidge turned in her seat, looking around at anything and everything as a distraction. She wanted to be so far away from this conversation.

“You can’t handle hearing about dry humping?” Lance asked, and she could hear the amusement in his tone. “What are you? A virgin?”

“That’s none of your business,” She gaped at him, offended that he’d even ask such a question. He was a very blunt kind of guy.

“Alright, alright.” He held up his hands in defeat. “It’s not my fault you’re too uptight to enjoy a little bit of pleasure.”

“Piss off,” She bit out, and it was enough to take him by surprise. “I’m not going to stand here in _my apartment_ and get harassed by a guy who works as a stripper. So if you’re going to be like this, get out, and don’t bother coming back for any more tutoring.”

“No, no,” Lance relented, genuinely looking upset. The amusement was gone now. “I’m sorry. You’re right, it’s none of my business. Please, I need your help to pass this test.”

Pidge glared at him, but after a few moment she caved in, biting the inside of her lip with some sort of feeling that she’d regret this.

“Alright…” She spoke, watching Lance’s shoulders drop in relief. “… I’m sorry too.”

“You shouldn’t be.” He said, sitting back in his chair. “I mean… I put you in a really awkward position. I shouldn’t be making fun of you for it.”

“You were just doing your job.” She remembered his words very clearly.

_“Don’t say anything, and don’t get me fired.”_

“Unless you had the choice to say no. Then I’ll have to kill you.” Quite literally.

“No, I really didn’t.” He sighed, running his hands through his hair. “I need the money, so…”

“I can’t imagine you need money so badly that you’d degrade yourself to being a stripper.” She remarked, and yeah, it was cold, but she had no idea the ins and outs of being a male stripper.

“Hey, I’ve had this job for three years and I’ve paid off half of my student loans.” He said, smirking ever so slightly. “Can you say the same thing about your job?”

“Half of them?” She gaped at him. “It pays that much?”

“Did you not see how much money woman threw on stage while I was doing you?”

Dear god, did he have to say it like that?

“No, uhm… I wasn’t paying attention.” She explained, swallowing hard between her words.

“Oh really…?” He smirked.

“You said you wouldn’t do that.” She gripped.

“Sorry, sorry.”

Lance sighed, as if the air had been cleaned between them. At least almost. Pidge felt there was still some unrelenting tension, but for now she could ignore it. For now she could breathe easier knowing they’d gotten past some of this.

“So… Couldn’t say no, huh?” She asked, crossing her legs under the table.

“Well, I mean I could-”

“What?” She yipped. Lance stood up just as quickly as, holding up his hands in a defensive manner again.

“Wait, wait!”

“So you got your jollies just humping me into the chair, huh?”

“No!” He exclaimed. “That’s not what I meant! It’s just that had my boss found out I knew you and gave you a lap dance anyway, I would have gotten in trouble, and I can’t lose this job. I just can’t.”

“So why didn’t you stop when you found out it was me?”

“Because the performance had already started!” Lance threw his hands to the side in exasperation. “And you can’t stop in the middle of one unless it’s an emergency…”

“So you just…” Pidge stopped, feeling heat rise to her cheeks again. Lance’s eyes were just as blue as the night he gave her a lap dance, and for whatever reason, now was the time her body decided to react to it.

“Did that.” He finished for her.

“Yeah, did that.” She said.

“Because if I lose my job, I’m screwed. So what if I did anyway? It didn’t mean anything.”

That hurt. That hurt more than she wanted to admit it did, and it must have showed on her face, because Lance paused, looking her up and down. What he saw she wasn’t sure, but she noticed his own cheeks darken with a blush.

“Unless…” He said, swallowing before continuing. “Did it…? For you?”

“Of course not.” She crossed her arms over her chest as Lance took a step closer to her.

“… What if I told you I almost lost my job?” He asked, and Pidge made the mistake of looking up at him, into those big blue eyes of his and getting caught in his stare. She didn’t bother asking why he would have, and Lance didn’t seem like he was looking for an answer. He went on without one. “What if I said I almost lost my job, because of what I did to you?”

Pidge pulled her lips together and swallowed. She remembered Lance’s distinct touch on her hips, the way they pressed together, even when they danced gently in the beginning.

It was starting to get too hot in here.

“What if I told you that half of the shit I did got my in so much trouble that they threatened to fire me?” He asked. Pidge gasped lightly when he pressed closer. She could feel his breath against the hair on the top of her head. “What if I told you I nearly lost my job because I did to you things I’m not supposed to do to a client?”

Whatever Lance was seeing she wasn’t sure, but it seemed to spur him on.

“What if I told you that it actually meant something?” He asked, and Pidge breathed deeply, wanting to reach for his chest, but stopping herself short of doing so. “What if I told you I did all that because I wanted to, and not because I had to? What if I told you I actually enjoyed our little _dance?”_

Pidge pressed her thighs together, refusing to look up. This was all too much to handle.

“What if I told you that the things that went through my head definitely would have gotten me fired? What if I told you how I pictured us both naked instead of just me?”

Pidge gasped when Lance pressed into her, his hands trapping her hips against the table while he loomed over her. She could feel his dick pressing against her thigh, and the very idea of it had a shiver running up her spine.

“What if I told you I imagined that there was no one around, just us, and that you were at my very mercy? What if I said I imagined you tied to the pole the whole time, and that I was rubbing up against you even harder and faster than I had been?”

Pidge’s fingers itched to touch.

“What if I said I wanted to feel your skin against mine, all sweaty and wet? What if I said I wanted you and all of you, naked against me, and me inside you?”

She felt the desire burning deep in her core. She wanted it. Needed it _so badly._

“What if I told you that I imagined me pounding into you every single fucking time I rocked into you, making you cry out my name with every thrust-”

Pidge grabbed the back of Lance’s head and yanked him down, forcing her lips against his in a hot, desperate kiss. Lance came back with just as much passion, grabbing her hips with rough hands and pushing her back against the table. The force was enough to knock a cup of water off of the table, the other falling over and ruining the flash cards.

With one hand, Lance swept the books off of the table. A second later he forced her down, towering over her and kissing her like his life depending on it. Tongues met in a hot embrace, Pidge whimpering into the kiss while wrapping her legs around his waist. Lance groaned into her mouth, pushing his hips up into hers with a blinding lust powering each thrust.

Pidge yanked on his hair, her legs tightening around him in a silent plea for more. A possessive plea that almost dared him to do more, and he did. Lance dragged his hands up her chest, forcing her shirt up under her arms. He grabbed at her bra and pulled it up, and Pidge didn’t care if he ruined it. He could ruin her for all she care.

His hands were soft, but his grip was rough as he palmed at her breasts. Pidge groaned, panting harshly against his lips until he broke the kiss to nip at her ear.

“H-Harder,” She gasped, grinding up into his rocking hips.

It wasn’t enough. It just wasn’t enough. Even when he was thrusting into her with the moves he used on stage, it wasn’t enough. There was too much in the way, like his jeans. Even when the zipper provided wonderful stimulation, she wanted him inside. She wanted exactly what he said he thought about.

Pidge reached between them and undid the clasp of his belt with shaking hands, whimpering as Lance sucked hard on her skin. Surely that’d leave marks, and right now she didn’t care. She yanked the zipper down, pushing her hand into his underwear to feel his heated flesh, hard and pulsing against her fingers. The tip was wet, which was perfect for the slide of her hand against his erection.

“F-Fuck, Katie…” He groaned, thrusting his hips into her hand.

“Pidge. C-Call me Pidge.”

Lance huffed before reaching into her underwear, grasping at her ass and palming the subtle flesh. Pidge’s head tipped back, hitting the table, but it did nothing to deter her from what she had in her hand.

Lance sat back, making Pidge whine, but he hurriedly yanked her pants down, underwear gone along with them until they were stuck around her ankles. He was so flustered that he couldn’t bother taking them off, instead forcing her legs up onto his shoulders and diving down to lick a long strip up her sex.

Pidge’s back arched, her lips parted to let out a loud moan, neighbors be damned. She reached down and fisted his hair, keeping him right where she wanted him.

His tongue pressed into her clit before sucking on it, groaning into it and causing a shudder to run up and down her whole body. Her toes curled, her fingers tugging on his hair like it was too much, but not enough at the same time.

Lance’s tongue began thrusting in and out of her, mimicking what was just about to happen. She didn’t think the rush could feel so good, the lack of foreplay stimulating and making her mind rush with so many thoughts, yet she felt numb to everything but him. Lance and the way his tongue pressed in and out of her, or when he sucked on her clit. Lance and the way he pressed a finger into her, slowly curling up into a spot that had her seeing stars.

“Fu-Fucking- Lance! Ahh!”

Her back arched as she came, a silent scream stuck in her throat. Lance moaned into her clit, sucking hard while his finger rubbed into that spot. He was unrelenting, not stopping until her hips were bucking and she was pleading for him to stop.

He licked up the mess she left, licking his lips before standing up as straight as he could with her legs still wrapped around his shoulders. Pidge watched with blurry vision as he tugged his jeans and underwear down, giving his cock the room it needed. He pressed it into her opening, rubbing up and down and making her twitch.

It felt good. Too good. She whimpered with each little thrust, hips stuttering against him. She pressed her hands into his hips to slow him down, but Lance grabbed at them and pinned them by her sides.

He slowly slid in, mouth open to let out a harsh pant. Pidge arched against the table, moaning unabashedly at the way he filled her. The way he felt inside of her was indescribable. Hot, wet, filling her perfectly. Her previous experiences with sex never felt this good, never filled her right, never did what he did, and it almost brought tears to her eyes.

“Oh my god…” She panted, watching the way he disappeared inside of her.

“Y-You’re so tight…” He breathed, pulling out and pushing back in. “So hot and wet…”

Pidge groaned, yanking her hands free and grasping for his shoulders. She dug her nails into his shirt, feeling like she could tear a hole right through the fabric. It was in the way, but Lance was thrusting a little bit faster, and she didn’t have the time to undo the buttons of his shirt when he took her breath away.

Pidge rocked into him, meeting every one of his thrusts until a rhythm started to build. His balls clapped into her, the sound of the table squeaking getting louder.

“S-Say my name, Pidge.” He told her, thrusting harder into her. “Say it…”

“Lance,” She panted, eyes watering as a coil began to tighten in her stomach.

“Louder,” He demanded, snapping harder into her.

“L-Lance!” She cried out, panting between moans of pleasure. “Lance, Lance, Lance!”

Lance was getting close. She could tell by the way their rhythm was faltering, the way he groaned louder, panted harder, and how his hands dug into her hips, fingernails pricking her skin. The pain only made the building pleasure greater, hotter, and more intense.

Pidge pulled him down against her, pressing her lips into his ear and whispering out his name like a mantra, like a prayer, and damn if it didn’t mess him up.

“I-I’m gonna cum!” He rasped, lips dragging across her collar bone.

“Me too!” She cried out, tugging on his hair until he forced him to a breast, where he sucked on a hard nipple, moaning against her heated skin.

“Cum for me, Pidge,” He jabbered, reaching down to finger her clit. “Cum for me like a good girl…”

That did it.

“F-Fuck, fuck, fuck,” She cried, tensing up as her orgasm ripped through her, all around Lance’s thick cock. She moaned loudly, body shuddering with every ripple of pleasure, every spark of white that flashed across her eyes. Lance followed only seconds after, pulling out and fisting his cock to cum hot streaks all over her chest and shirt.

She whimpered, body twitching as her orgasm slowly dwindled, but the pleasurable thrumming remained. Lance collapsed on top of her after emptying everything out of himself, gasping for air that his lungs couldn’t seem to get. His hands and arms slowly wrapped around her, one under her head, acting as a pillow, and the other under her waist, wrapped tightly and possessively around her.

Pidge hummed in satisfaction, wrapping her arms around his neck as she caught her breathe. Her vagina still twitched, her toes still curled, but what was left behind was relaxed exhaustion she hadn’t felt in a _long_ time. A relaxation only achieved through an amazing orgasm, or in this case, the best sex she had ever had.

Lance nuzzled into the crook of her neck, sighing against her hot skin. He placed a gentle, affectionate kiss just below her ear, eyes soft when they looked up into her own. It was like he was trying to say something without actually saying it, so she could respond in the only way she knew how.

Pidge placed a delicate kiss against his lips, soft and gentle and not at all like what they had been sharing only moments before. He returned it, little puffs of air leaving him and her between them for a few moments before he pulled away, looking worried.

“Oh shit…” He breathed, sitting up slightly. Pidge mourned the loss of his warmth.

“What’s wrong…?” She asked, pushing herself up onto her elbows.

“I didn’t use a condom.” He said, rubbing his palm into his face.

“Oh…” She mumbled. “I’m on the pill.” She told him. Lance looked no less than relieved.

“Oh good.” He sighed, giving her a goofy smile. “I thought I fucked up. I kind of lost myself in the moment.”

“We both did,” She smiled too, reaching up to brush his sweat covered bangs from his face. Lance leaned into her hand, cupping it with his own and holding it in place.

“This kind of isn’t how I expected tutoring to go today.” He lightly joked, looking down between them at the mess he had made. “Not that I mind.”

“Oh, right. I forgot.” Pidge looked back at the mess of books and paper on the floor, and the ruined flash cards soaked and ruined by the cup of spilled water. “Well that was a fail.”

Lance barked out a laugh that had her jumping, but in the next moment she joined him, laughing into her hands and laying back down on the table. Lance fell over beside her, her leg trapped under him, but she didn’t mind. She rolled onto her side and pressed close into his chest, taking in his sweat-ladled scent with a clear conscious. She hadn’t felt this good in a long time.

“Hey uh…” Lance began, rubbing the back of his neck. Pidge looked up at him, a curious look on her face. “Maybe this is out there, but uh… You want to go out some time?”

The question left her no less than stumped. Lance, the jock, wanted to go out with her, the nerd? That wasn’t how most stories went, especially since he was the guy who flirted with every pretty thing in a skirt.

“Well…” She mumbled, giggling against his chest. “You’ve given me a lap dance, and we just had sex, but yeah, a date wouldn’t be moving too fast in our relationship.”

Lance laughed again, this time a little more subdued, tucking her against his chest and resting his chin on top of her head. Pidge felt the vibrations of his laughter through his chest as she plucked at the buttons of his shirt. She hummed a giggle, undoing the first few before placing a kiss on his chest.

“What are you doing?” He asked, looking down at her mop of brown hair.

“Another tutoring session.”


End file.
